"You're right. Married to-day in Grace Church. A great wedding; the
papers are full of it. Well, she's the lady. They registered here a few
minutes before five o'clock and in ten minutes the bride was missing.
It's a queer story Mr. Ransom tells. You'd better hear it. Ah, there's
our man! Perhaps you'll go up with him."

"You may bet your last dollar on that," muttered the manager. And joining
the new-comer, he made a significant gesture which was all that passed
between them till they stepped out on the second floor.

"Wanted in Room 81?" the manager now asked.

"Yes, by a man named Ransom."

"Just so. That's the door. Knock--or, rather, I'll knock, for I must hear
his story as soon as you do. The reputation of the hotel--"

"Yes, yes, but the gentleman's waiting. Ah! that's better."

The manager had just knocked.

An exclamation from within, a hurried step, and the door fell open. The
figure which met their eyes was startling. Distress, anxiety, and an
impatience almost verging on frenzy, distorted features naturally amiable
if not handsome.

"My wife," fell in a gasp from his writhing lips.

"We have come to help you find her," Mr. Gerridge calmly assured him. Mr.